Page 68 of The Preachers' Promise
“Get yourselves going and come meet me in the kitchen. We need to talk. I’ll put the coffee pot on.”
I stalk out of the room, not stopping until I reach the kitchen. Once there, I grab the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar and bend over, gasping. I feel as if I’m breathing through a straw. Shit. This is the fucking worst. To this day, I can’t bear to think about my kitten. If my father had been a decent man, I’d have been able to tell him about it, maybe take it to a vet. They’d have told me how to take care of it properly, and it would have survived.
Ophelia is innocent, too. Will she end up hurt? Maybe even dead? We’ve been hiding out in this house, playing happy families, while the world outside got more dangerous for us with every passing hour. We’ve tried to pretend none of it matters, but it does. We’re screwed if we can’t find a way out of this mess.
Roman strolls in, hair mussed, but wearing low-slung sweatpants and a t-shirt. He yawns and scratches his scruff as he takes a seat at the island, bleary eyes trained on me.
“What gives?” he asks.
I grind my teeth. “I’m fucking stressing, okay? We’re in a bind.”
He snorts, as if this shit is funny. “Tell me about it. I killed a man at the facility. Fucking slaughtered him like a pig. Well, I did worse than I’d ever do to a pig. I’m going to face charges for that if I can’t find a way out of it. It means looking after our Angel must be down to you and Cain.”
Well, this isn’t helping my panic.
I stare at him in horror. “You can’t go to prison. Your family wouldn’t let that happen.”
His family might be evil fuckers, but they paid for his education, didn’t they? They have no idea the three of us are plotting to bring down the heads of all our families. There’s no way they’d let the heir to their crime fortune rot away in prison.
He sighs. “I’m not sure even their power and sway would be able to get me off of a murder charge in a town where they have little influence.”
“You seem a bit too fucking chill about this.”
He gives a dark laugh. “I’m not chill at all, but I can’t bring myself to regret it. He deserved it.”
His eyes bore into mine, the painful truth of what he felt he had to do reflected in their depths.
“We’re so fucked.” I scrub my hands over my face. “So very fucked.”
“Ophelia’s father is going to be pissed that we took her, too.” Roman shrugs. “I don’t think he’s going to be the pushover Cain seems to.”
“She always said her parents loved her, but her father seems like a fucking cunt to me.”
Roman nods. “Yes, he does. Arrogant. Thinks he’s always right. Won’t listen to reason. It’s almost as if he runs a criminal cartel.”
We both laugh at that, the dark humor kind of helping to lighten the mood.
Rome continues. “Maybe he does love her in his own way, but the way crime patriarchs seem to love their families is all about control.”
His words have a depressing inevitability. “Do you think we’d be the same? Not that we’re planning on being a family with kids or anything, but … if we did, do you think we’d be the same?”
Rome steeples his hands in front of his face as he considers my question. “I don’t know. I’d like to think not. We know what harm we faced as children, and we’re trying to break the cycle, but who knows? They say history repeats itself, so maybe we’d end up just like our fathers in the end. Although, I’d rather cut my cock off than be like the men in my family.”
“Now, then, we don’t need you getting handy with the knife again.” I try to lighten the atmosphere some.
“I don’t care what happens to me,” he says. “Not really. I just need Ophelia to be okay. I could cope with being in prison, if I knew she was free and safe, but she’ll never be free and safe while the Prophet is still out there.”
I let down my guard and show some of the vulnerability I normally hide. “It’s scary loving someone, isn’t it?”
He nods, his gaze cast down. “Yes, it is. It’s probably why I don’t do it often, or ever, until now.”
Cain walks into the room and pauses as he approaches us. “You could cut the air in here with a knife, it’s that heavy.”
“Yeah, well, things feel heavy,” I reply.
“We’ll sort them out. We have options.”
“Cain, I damn well love you like a brother, but sometimes your optimism is exhausting.” I smile sadly at him. “There’s so much coming for us. So much crap swirling around us. We can’t stay here forever.”
